


Pyrrhic Love

by itsgameover



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25872238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsgameover/pseuds/itsgameover
Summary: Painting: #101Junmyeon, who ran away from a life of duty, falls for a man who refuses to choose between love and duty.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 13
Kudos: 36
Collections: 1001 Tales: Suho/Lay Fic Fest Round 3





	Pyrrhic Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Welcome! This is the longest piece I've written in a long time and I'm super proud of it. I wish I've had more space to expand upon certain things, but as it is I'm happy. The story is done, developed to the best it could be and I think it's very beautiful.  
> Thank you to the mods for running this fest and being so attentive!  
> Thank you to my beta, you are the lit, babe!  
> Thank you to you, all of you who are here, for giving my story an opportunity.  
> Hope you enjoy this little adventure!

**pyrrhic  
** _/ˈpɪrɪk/  
_«(of a victory) won at too great a cost to have been worthwhile for the victor.»

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The piece of parchment sits comfortably on his open palms, weight like the feathers of a bird. It feels like relief, like sudden freedom written in dark ink. The engagement has been annulled, the joy inside his heart can’t sing any higher, his chest is blooming with relief. 

He is sure the lovely princess of Namsu must be content as well. Barely a year and half ago she was meant to be only the queen of Shiyuan, wedding Yixing was her only responsibility. But then the sea changed, the tide rising and falling overnight. Her older brother resigned all his rights to the throne, leaving her not only a princess but now an heir with far too many duties and responsibilities with her own nation to worry about being the wife of a foreign power. 

Yixing makes a mental note to send her one of his many books about state affairs and a letter wishing her well and making himself a friend, a small thank you for freeing them both of their duty to each other. Their nations shall be well, have always been. One less marriage won't destroy the cements of their alliance

In the meantime, the prince is happy. Yixing sighs deeply, smiling contentedly, if he were a car he’d be purring happily right now. He reads the words once more, just to be sure he read them correctly and then hands it back to his valet. 

“Has the King made any calls for his son today?” the Prince asks, 

“No, Your Highness, the King sends his wishes for a safe day” the valet says, small man with a loud mouth. Yixing raises an eyebrow when Baekhyun hesitates, not moving away and almost ready to say something.

“What else does the King wants to say to his dutiful son and heir?” Yixing asks, resting his chin on the propped open palm of his right hand.

Baekhyun sighs deeply, “he insists on informing the Prince that while his duties are not limited to marriage, he should not lose sight of it and find a suitable bride within the realm if foreign alliances are to be kept through some other way” the valet rolls his eyes and Yixing truly relates to this action. 

“Ah, I knew he wouldn’t drop the issue so easily” he changes his position until he is resting his head on both his open hands, eyeing the room around him without really seeing “Well, for now this little bit of freedom will do”

“What does Your Highness wish to do?” Baekhyun asks, a little bit of mischief in his eyes. Yixing smiles slyly.

“Let’s go outside, my trusty valet, I want to celebrate. Take me to the wild streets!”

“As His Highness commands!” the boy says, offering a deep bow before scurrying away to prepare a carriage while Yixing decides if his black cossack would be too easy to spot on during the day or if she should just ask Baekhyun for one of his bigger jackets. 

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The market is full of life. The plaza is full of sailcloth-roofed stalls, appropriate for a market near the sea, brimming with life. The rich veiled ladies attentively inspecting the expensive jewels made by the sylphlike hands of a skinny seller, the religious men and women buying sauerkraut from a cook with a large mustache, the farmers in the corner preaching of the many blessings of their most recent harvest. It’s a common and ordinary event, a day to day spectacle. It’s amazing. 

There is beauty in the ordinary, in the typical, in the dust that covers old books, in the wind that moves curtains and forces men to hold tightly to their hats, in the laughter of a few women gathered in the street corner, dressed in opaque colors with hair so long that it brushes their skirts. 

Maybe this beauty is only seen by his eyes. Used to the blinding lights of stone castles and dancing halls decorated with jade, amber and light granite, to the feeling of gold and silver on his skin all the time -golden rings, silver medals, golden pendants, silver coins to pay an executioner...-, to the heavy uniforms and the stiff greetings, to the highly formal language and the weight of a crown pending over him like a looming cloud, rainfall ready to pour. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were true what his teacher taught him, that royalty is nothing but a blindfold to keep kings from being aware of their own mortality.

Junmyeon doesn’t think he will ever get tired of visiting the market of Shiyuan, three streets away from the enormous stone cathedral and a short walk away from the harbors. The smell of sea salt and fish initially shocks you, makes you want to run away and hide in the nearest flower pot, but Junmyeon got used to it. It’s still unpleasant, but it’s bearable, like a scar you can’t get rid of. If it becomes too much he can always trust on his rose-scented handkerchief. 

With a basket full of fresh vegetables and fruits, Junmyeon abandons the grounds of the market, giving a little gold coin to a girl with black hair who tugged his sleeve asking for spare change and gifted him a beautiful dimpled smile in exchange. 

Sitting on the driver’s seat, Jongin plays with the scabbard of his dagger, absentmindedly toying with it until he spots Junmyeon and hurries to his side to pick the basket. 

“Dear Goddess, how much did you spend?” he says, complaining as he takes the basket and puts it next to the other purchases Junmyeon they have made throughout the morning. 

“Less complaining, more driving!” Junmyeon says as he climbs in the passenger seat, closing the door with a little bit more force than necessary “We have clothes to pick!” Sighing and rolling his eyes, Jongin does as he is told, but there is a smile on his face as he takes the driver seat.

‘Do Kyungsoo’s Tailor Service’ is located on the bottom of a red stone building, white sign painted with an stylized writing in black hanging from two metal rods as wide as Junmyeon’s arms, with a big window displaying both male and female fashion -he absolutely hates the striped clothes but the black waistcoat with little white dots seems like a reasonable addition- and a black door with silver handles. 

“Good morning, sir” a female voice salutes as Junmyeon opens the door, taking off his hat as he does and bowing his head respectfully “Oh, Sir Mr Prince!” Seulgi chimes, jumping from her seat with a bright smile and bowing 90 degrees in front of him

“Good morning, Miss Kang” Junmyeon says, smiling awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck “Mr Do told me to come today to pick the clothes”

She nods repeatedly even before Junmyeon is done speaking “Mr Do said to make you pass if you came. He is on the second floor with other clients” Seulgi cocks her head towards the staircase on the opposite side of the store.

Junmyeon nods understanding and heads for the stairs, walking slowly to ensure making as less noise as possible. He arrives to the upper section, where the tailor takes measures and makes his most expensive clients try on their newly made clothes, and encounters a man facing one of the tables full of fabrics. 

“Mrs Kang, please tell me what kind of fabric this is? I don’t seem to recognize it” he turns around and gapes when he comes across Junmyeon. The stranger has a very peculiar face, something about his sweet eyes, that seem sleepy but kind, makes him very memorable. He has seen this face before, he just doesn’t remember when or where. 

Junmyeon approaches quickly, taking the piece of red fabric in his hands and giving it a good look, running it through his fingers. He hums concomitantly, raising his eyes to the man. 

“Taffeta” Junmyeon cocks his head to the side, biting his lower lip “Probably. I’m not an expert, really

“Oh” the stranger says, smiling showing a pretty dimple and wrinkling his eyes “I didn’t know that. How did you know?” there is such bewilderment in his tone that Junmyeon can’t help but laugh softly. 

“My mother used to purchase tons of this fabric, adored it. She would dress me and my sister in damask and taffeta whenever she could. She said it made us look adorable” he rolls his eyes with a fond smile, remembering the hours he would spend in his mother’s dressing room, getting shirts and jackets fitted time after time. 

“That sounds really sweet” the strange man says, smiling at the fabric as his fingers slide over the folds “My mother was obsessed with silk and organdy, so I understand your suffering” both men laugh then and Junmyeon feels strangely amicably for someone who has been running from social interaction for the longest time. 

When the moment dies down, he clears his throat gently and turns towards the stranger, bowing slightly “I’m Junmyeon”

“Very nice to meet you, Junmyeon” the strangers mirrors his bow, keeping his smile in place. “I’m, er…” he hesitates, biting his lip. 

“Oh, Prince!” Kyungsoo says, walking into the room with both hands busy, smoothing down the folds of his clothes in lieu of easing those in between his eyebrows “Your Highness I apologize for making you wait”

“No need to-” both Junmyeon and the stranger stop dead in their tracks, staring at each other with wide open eyes. The stranger laughs, nervously and steps back. 

Kyungsoo scoffs “Well, this seems like a fun predicament to me”

“Your Royal Highness!” a man with wide shoulders and half unbuttoned shirt appears right behind the tailor, running towards the stranger. He bows slightly and the stranger blushes “Are you alright?”

“I’m well, Baekhyun, do not worry!” the stranger assures. 

“Your Royal Highness,” Kyungsoo starts, speaking to Junmyeon “this is His Royal Highness” and then he points towards the stranger. 

“Is this your Prince?” the man with pouty lips ask, apparently named Baekhyun, with eyebrows quipped up. 

“I’m not a Prince” Junmyeon interjects, Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. 

“What his Highness means is that he is no longer a Crown Prince” the tailor says, crossing his arms over his chest with a sweet smile. 

“Oh, you are the Prince of Namsu?” the stranger asks. Junmyeon nods, albeit bashfully. The dimpled man smiles once more “Pleasure to see you once more, I’m Yixing” he says, extending a hand that is quickly turned down as Baekhyun steps forward. 

“His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Yixing of the House of Zhang, Prince of the Blood of the Dragons of Shiyuan” Baekhyun hastens to clarify. Yixing’s eyes turn white as they roll back, sighing as he does. 

Junmyeon’s eyes shoot wide open and he bows deeply, apologizing for his lack of respect. A prince, no, _the_ prince, the only son of the King of Shiyuan, the most powerful man of the realm after his own father. Junmyeon feels very silly for not being able to recognize him. In his defense, he had never seen the man in person aside from a royal ball when both of them were no older than six years old, and the man in uniforms and royal regalia portrayed in the many paintings displayed in Kentori, the capital of his realm, don’t quite resemble this laid back man with a beautiful smile and gentle eyes. 

“Oh, no, no!” the Prince says, hurrying Junmyeon to stand upright once more. His smile is so bright when their eyes meet “We met when we were children, it matters not if you are no longer an heir” he taps Junmyeon’s shoulders and squeezes a bit, making Junmyeon feel coddled like a child in the best of ways “You are still a prince and well, you know that Namsu and Shiyuan have been friends for a long time” 

There is a pause and a brief silence, only interrupted by the soft humming of the tailor as he scurries around the place to put his meters and meters of fabric in shelves, and through it all Junmyeon feels seen in the oddest of ways, almost ogled by the Prince in front of him, eyes drifting from Junmyeon’s own eyes, down to his chin and back up again. Baekhyun clears his throat and suddenly the prince of Shiyuan is back in movement, shaking his head gently.

“You should come with us!” Prince Yixing exclaims, eyes shiny and sweet smile broadening by the second “My valet and me were out and about today, freedom for a day… more or less” 

“Oh, apologies Your Highness, I am unable to do so. Today I came only to take my clothes and return to my work” Junmyeon bows his head slightly and the prince pouts, he pouts! He stands in his spot, shoulders dropped and lips pursed forward, fingers of his left hand fiddling with the rings sitting in his right hand. 

“Baekhyun!” he exclaims, suddenly turning towards his companion. The valet straightens up, quickly fixing his shirt and mustering a proper posture “Remind me what are my duties for this week”

“There is a tea party in saturday afternoon, Your Highness” the man informs. Behind him, Tailor Do is smiling wryly. 

“Hmm,” the Prince muses, chin trapped between his thumb and index “would you like to attend a tea party, Prince Junmyeon?” 

“Please, I’m just Junmyeon” he says, bowing his head just ever so slightly “and I am a mere subject of the realm now, I do as His Highness pleases”

Yixing’s eyes are narrowed, lips pursed “I asked because I want an answer, I won’t force a good man like you to attend a tea party” he smiles, cocking his head to the side “Although it would be really nice to have smart company, I don’t seem to be able to recognize fabric and I’ve been attended by dozens of court modists every year. I’m sure the ladies would appreciate a handsome man with a knowledgeable heart” 

“Ah, if that’s what His Highness thinks then I have no other option” 

“Great, my valet would make sure you receive a proper invitation” “On one condition” “Please call me Yixing and treat me like an equal” he gently pats Junmyeon’s right arm, resting his arm for a mere moment before the Prince crosses his arms behind his back, staring intently at Junmyeon with a small smile gracing his lips “we are both of noble blood, we can drop honorifics and titles”

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Yixing is elated. There is something absolutely magical about the way the stranger glanced into the room, stepped into the small wooden floor and made himself a spotlight, turned his very soul into a star, how he went from a handsome stranger with a knowledge of fabrics and folds to becoming the brother of the princess that Yixing was meant to wed. And there is something magical about the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, about his sweet voice and kind mannerisms. Yixing can’t say for certain that love at first sight exists, but he is certain that hiperfixations like this can’t come from mere physical interest. 

“If I may interrupt His Royal Highness musings” Baekhyun says, handing him a small white scarf without directly staring at him “I would recommend protecting His Royal Highness’ personal decency by keeping a scarf nearby to clean the drool dripping from His Royal Highness’ royal lips”

Yixing hastens to touch his chin and immediately regrets it, as Baekhyun's laugh make him blush. The prince smacks his valet in the knee and delights himself in the wince that follows it.

"Oh, His Royal Highness shouldn't treat his poor valet like this!" Baekhyun exclaims, pouting "I'm merely looking after the Prince's public image"

"You are a menace and I wasn't drooling. I just..."

"Developed a sort of attraction for the former Crown Prince of Namsu, who would have been your brother in law shall the now Crown Princess Jiwoo not requested the annulment of your engagement?" Baekhyun deadpans, Yixing can only nod. When did Baekhyun became so knowledgeable of his heart? Is he such an open book that anyone close enough could read him clearly?

“Your Highness,” Baekhyun starts, tone sweet and calming, almost as if he could have heard the inner turmoil of the prince “although I’m happily in love I can not deny that anyone with working eyes would feel some sort of pull towards a man like him” he shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his hands over his lap “As a Crown Prince he had swarms of maids and valets drooling for him. It is said that one of his sister’s chambermaids attempted to kiss him in the middle of a Ball and he rejected her in such a manner that the girl ran away in shame, never to be found again”

“Did he?” Yixing asks, but then raises a hand, stopping the smaller man from answering. Of course he did. Not only was he the heir of the throne of one of the richest kingdoms known to mankind he is also incredibly handsome. So, Yixing changes his question, “How do you know that?”

“Valets, Your Highness. We may not have a union but we do trade secrets” Baekhyun smiles, leaning forward with a smirk on his pinkish lips “Worry not, Your Highness, your deepest darkest secrets are safe with me, I only speak about your obsession with orange juice and kimchi stew, not about your royal affairs”

“I can’t have an affair if I’m not married” Yixing’s eyebrows furrow but he can deny he is amused.

“Yes, yes, exactly, that’s the correct answer” Baekhyun winks and the prince has to suppress a laugh at that. 

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“I am in no position to question the choices made by a member of the Royal Family...” Jongin says, face red. It’s late in the afternoon, room lit up by half a dozen lamps as Junmyeon stacks up the newest additions to the library. 

“But…?” Junmyeon adds, knowing fully well what will come afterwards. Jongin sighs, hands him the newest three volumes of the Encyclopedia of All the Knowledge in the Known World and Beyond. It’s an ambitious project, almost impossible, but Junmyeon admires the strength and commitment of the wise men behind the endless saga. 

“But, Your Highness” Junmyeon eyes him with a quipped eyebrow and Jongin sighs “Junmyeon, you always said you wanted to live a peaceful life away from all the things you ran away from. I don’t see how attending a tea party hosted by the son of a King can be ‘flying low’, ‘be unseen’” the young man’s eyes sadden significantly, he does worry about Junmyeon like they were bonded by blood. 

“I thought you were happy being just an art curator, antique seller, book hoarder dragon” he adds, shrugging. Junmyeon giggles then, Jongin’s shoulders relax but his expression is still a little bit tense.

Junmyeon scoffs loudly, putting a hand on top of Jongin’s head with a calming smile on his lips “Jongin, I won’t leave my peaceful quiet life just because a Prince invited me to a tea party. He won’t even remember me by the time I walk into the room” he shrugs as he makes his way down the small staircase used to reach the highest shelves “Someone will probably tell him I’m there, he will say a polite hi and be whisked away by other dozen duties. That’s how it is for a future King, you never have time to yourself, you are never _yourself_ ”

“I know but still…” Jongin’s eyes still carry a worried expression, but his lips stretch into a wide smile “I worry about you since I am your valet, your personal guard, your chambermaid, your nanny, your cook, your carriage driver… I mean, if you leave me to join a harem my salary will be reduced drastically”

“Well then, good thing I am not the concubine of anyone in this land and have no intention of becoming such thing in the near future” he assesses the store one more time, walking around the place and removing some dust from old objects with a feathery duster “Anyways, I should write to my mother to lower your income, you are far too rude to your master”

“Master?! I am not a slave!” Jongin accuses, running behind Junmyeon up the stairs after blowing all the lights in the store “Also, please don’t do that, I bought brand new leather boots and that shit is expensive” Junmyeon’s laugh may be boisterous but Jongin’s straight up belongs to a wicked witch.

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The castle’s gardens are blossoming with life, human and otherwise. High ranking court officials, generals and their spouses, grand ladies dressed in silk and velvet, fanning their faces with precisely made fans, men and women pouring from every corner of the capital to glance at the Crown, at the King and his children, flood the gardens like heavy rain.

The ponds full of ducks and colorful fishes have quite the quota of curious observants, throwing pellets provided by the diligent servants dressed in purple liveries, indicating they belong to the Royal household. It’s still the royal menagerie the space that catches the most eyes, after all everyone wants to see the two elephants and the three lion cubs raised in the grounds of the royal court.

It takes him mere seconds to spot him amongst the crowd. Even amongst all the beautiful flowers and the beautiful men and women surrounding him, Yixing couldn’t miss his special guest. 

His hair is stilled back in a wonderful manner, clear forehead, illuminated face. He is wearing a standard outfit, with a blue waistcoat over a white shirt, ruffled cravat at the neck, knee-length breeches and white stockings, shiny black shoes finishing his polished appearance. 

The prince of Namsu, while he may not longer be an heir, is still regal and incredibly handsome. His young sister would appalled at how openly he is ogling the man, so Yixing tames his wild mind and trades his eyes full of light for a polite white mask, devoid of any sort of emotion beside the obliged niceties. 

“Junmyeon, I’m happy to see you” he softly says, aware the the foreign prince must have seen him coming. When the prince is about to bow, Yixing stops him with a hand against his shoulder “Please don’t! We are equals, remember? I don’t expect those courtesies from you”

“Of course, Your Highness…” he responds, the corners of his lips turning his expression into one of soft kindness. Yixing’s heart flutters at the sight, but he manages to hold his emotions at bay, tapping his arm and cocking his head to the right so the man follows him. 

They walk side by side for a brief moment, chatting amicably about the people in the garden, sun shining brightly above their heads, obstructed by an umbrella that Baekhyun carries as he walks behind him, bickering for a brief moment with Junmyeon’s valet, who carried a similar one. Yixing feels ashamed for not noticing such a tall attractive man standing behind his companion, but can he be blamed if his eyes can’t drift away from Junmyeon’s shiny ones? There is nothing that he can do to avoid his sight to drifting back to the prince, to his expressions, to his voice tone and subtle mannerism. 

Yixing feels safe speaking with relatively low formalities with someone who understands the struggles of carrying a weight as heavy as being the heir to the throne. It’s also peculiar but terrifically interesting to hear about his endeavours in Kentori, hear him speak about his job with so much excitement, inviting Yixing to his antiquities store when the prince shows interest on it. He is a fascinating person and the best part about the tedious tea event, jasmine tea and lemon cakes aside. 

Still, Yixing feels curiosity prickling under his skin, begging him to ask the questions that really matter: why did he leave the throne? why did he move to Shiyuan? is he happy being a no one? doesn’t he worry about his sister? 

He doesn’t ask any of that, of course, Yixing has been raised to be a monarch and a one wise would never ask questions that he doesn’t want the answer to… or those that would cause unwanted discomfort in the person being questioned. When seeking to make a bridge, one cannot question what’s on the other side. You simply build, after all, you can always turn back if crossing the river becomes an unpleasant visit. 

Yixing wants to make Junmyeon feel comfortable, wants to make him drop his guard entirely, because he wants more out of him than what he always hears from the courtiers that surround him. If he is honest, he would die for a kiss from those perfect pink lips. But he can’t be honest, not now, so he just asks about Junmyeon what his favourite tea is and smiles when he hears him say peppermint with such a bright smile.

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Jiwoo’s letter is long, a missive so lengthy that it takes Junmyeon nearly two days to finish it, paying proper attention to every single one of the details present in her neat handwriting. The princess seems overwhelmed, tired of so many occupations, she gets angry at him at some point, curses his name, then apologizes and tells him it’s not his fault he wasn’t made to rule. She tells him how much she loves him, how good of a brother he has always been, how much she misses him but also how well she understands the wishes of his heart. 

Jiwoo even writes him about his former fiance, the Duchess of Bae, and how she is engaged to a former governor of the southern provinces, happily so. She also notes, writing in bold black letters, that her own engagement has been successfully called off. He snorts at her joy.

Junmyeon reads it all with a wide range of emotions fighting for dominance inside his chest. Mostly he feels proud, she has taken things in stride, always putting the realm above herself and for that she is the perfect monarch, strong and powerful, a relentless force of nature willing to shape the world at her whim, but her whims are never truly hers. It’s always about the wellbeing of the kingdom. What a wonderful girl she is, how glad he is that she is the one to take his stead. 

Sometimes guilt clogs his heart, making him regret everything and plan a journey back to relieve her of her pain, but then he knows that the pain of both of their fates wouldn’t be good either. Jiwoo married to a prince she would never love, knowing her real love is left behind in a forgotten castle of Namsu. Junmyeon sitting in a throne never made for a man as small and simple as him. So he breathes in and out, picks paper and ink and writes back to her. 

Somewhere along the thousand lines he has written, Junmyeon tells his little sister about Yixing, but not by name, nor by title. He tells her he has become rather close with a nobleman from the Shiyuan court and that they spent time together almost every week (“yes, Wiwoo! your asocial older brother has a friend!” he writes, picturing her smug face as she reads about her brother’s adventures in Kentori). 

Yixing has quite literally become an integral part of his life, even if it’s been only a month since they met. He is charming and friendly, funny and cunning, kind and sweet, a creature with great wit and immense knowledge, well prepared to be a king. Yixing doesn’t resent his bloodline, like Junmyeon did growing up, he seems content with being an heir, doesn’t want any other thing. That in itself is an admirable feat for a man like Junmyeon. 

It’s scary how easy it feels for Junmyeon to make a space for Yixing in everything he does. How quick one can go from thinking about commodities to wondering if this little trinket from Munshu would make a prince happy. It's terrifying and comfortable having someone to look forward to see when schedules and crowned fellows allow it. 

Jongin notices him lost in his thoughts more than once, toying with the food in his plate, rice gone cold. But when he calls him out for his behaviour, Junmyeon shakes his head and laughs, denies all thoughts of a prince and a dimpled smile. Jongin knows him well enough to not believe such lies. 

Is this what _he_ felt back then? Joy and fear and a heart on the verge of breaking at every moment? Junmyeon feels his heart shake, his heartstrings play the same song funerals enjoy, and lets the bile settle down before taking another step. 

No, Junmyeon won’t allow himself to fall for a man who can break him and ruin his perfect peace. No, he won’t become a slave to yet another crown after escaping the golden-chains slavery he was born into. Junmyeon has a friend, a very handsome and very powerful friend, but also a friend who can’t and won’t make him change his life. A friend who doesn’t want him like his heart wishes and his minds dreads he would want him. 

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They say that falling in love is like falling asleep, slow at first and then all at once. _It’s true_ , Yixing thinks, he sleep quick and loves even more quickly. He is a fool with a heart made to fall in a heartbeat, made to breathe for the gentle smiles and the soft crescents those smiles shine in his sky. He can’t bring himself to care about his soft and loving heart, since this heart is the one that keeps him walking towards the young man in a black jacket, talking in a slow but steady voice to the headmaster of the King’s Conservatory of Art. 

“Your Royal Highness!” the headmaster says, bowing deeply. Junmyeon turns then, startled expression turning into a smile before he bows “What a surprise seeing you here, Your Highness” the man turns towards Junmyeon “This is Junmyeon, Prince of Namsu”

“I am aware” Yixing responds, smiling brightly “The prince and I know each other well”

“Oh” is the only thing the headmaster says before excusing himself and quickly scurrying away. 

“So, what is His Highness, Junmyeon, Prince of Namsu doing in my humble home?”

“As far as I am aware these are the King’s living quarters, so this is not Crown Prince Yixing’s humble home but his father’s…” faced with Yixing's pouting face, Junmyeon giggles gently, covering his mouth with a gloved right hand “Do not put that expression against me, Your Highness, I will gladly answer your question” he crosses his arms behind his back and follows Yixing as he starts to walk down the red-carpeted hall “The King wanted certain items for his personal art collection and well, since I trade such commodities he asked me, my business specifically, for help finding such items. And I will get a special commision the sooner I find and buy them” Junmyeon stops when Yixing does, facing a large crystal window that overlooks the east side of the garden. 

"So you will become a dealer of dark academia for the throne?" the Crown Prince asks, smiling when Junmyeon blushes, hiding his glee by turning his head to the side. 

"If that's what helps me keep my status as a well known and respected antiquities seller, then so be it" the man answers to him, quipping up his eyebrows and smiling smugly. He is so pretty when he laughs, so pretty when he smiles. Yixing would love to see that smile each and everyday of his life. Wouldn't mind any struggle if he was the one he would come home to each and every night. 

"I wish you worked in the palace," Yixing says after a long moment of amicable silence, eyeing his companion with a timid smile, "that way I would be able to see you everyday."

Yixing doesn't miss the way Junmyeon evades his eyes, focusing back on the grass across the window. He sighs deeply and puts his eyes back in the same direction, watching as the gardeners work diligently in the different plants and trees that cover the expanse of the royal gardens. 

"I would like seeing you everyday" Junmyeon says, so low that it's almost a whisper, so low that it almost sounds like a secret. 

"I would like that too" Yixing replies. They watch the garden some more, quiet and content, smiling like kids, as sunset slowly dances across the sky. Until Yixing turns to Junmyeon and asks him to stay a little longer, dinner is always served in his quarters. 

"Please” Yixing asks when hesitation crosses Junmyeon’s features, making him furrow his beautifully trimmed eyebrows. When he nods, Yixing suppresses the urge to kiss him and instead drags him by the arm to his sitting room, commanding his nosy valet in the way to serve dinner for two.

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The Crown Prince of Shiyuan truly has a blessing for interior decoration. Most of the royal quarters must be decorated with the royal colors, blue and silver, Junmyeon supposes, and must be made of the same material, marble floors and elegant columns supporting the corners of the room, but there is something very beautiful about the way Yixing’s rooms are decorated. 

The way tapestries and paintings and little trinkets are placed in the sitting room of the Prince, covering the walls in a ways that is so pleasing to the eye. There is a large fireplace directly across a large window with pulled back curtains, held in place by silver tassels, and in between those titans, a small wooden table over a large cobalt blue rug, its two winged chairs pulled back by the hands of the Prince. 

Junmyeon nods, feeling his cheek flush as he takes a seat in front of the table, plates with several pieces of cheese, fruits and bruschettas, two silver goblets filled with peachy wine that Yixing himself serves, insisting that they be left alone for the time being. 

“If you are needed you will be called” Yixing assures the servants, dismissing them in an elegant manners. One the last one of them leaves, the Crown Prince plops down in his chair, over dramatic sigh and rolled back eyes to accentuate his performance. Junmyeon laughs and the prince bats his arm for it “Don’t mock the future ruler of the realm you live in”

“Many apologies, Your Royal Highness, I do not seek to offend the royal person” Yixing rolls his eyes and sighs even louder now, making Junmyeon’s laugh renew. 

“Just eat and be quiet, you are making me lose my temper”

“Many apologies, Your Royal Highness, I-”

“Eat!” he says, placing two cubes of blue cheese inside Junmyeon mouth to shut him up. Both blush when they notice what he has done, but Junmyeon chews and swallows, laughing afterwards and shoving a grape into the Crown Prince’s mouth. 

They trade feeding each other for a while, going from joking to genuinely sharing the food, enjoying an act that entrails such intimacy. Junmyeon is not sure if it’s the wine or the hour, way past dinner time, but his heart can’t stop beating fast, a hummingbird flapping its wings inside is ribcage. It makes his head spin to be so close to Yixing (when did they move from the winged chairs to the settee? does it even matter if it gives him a closer view of that beautiful dimpled smile?)

All this up close and personal interaction it’s messing with his mind, because he surely must be imagining the way the Crown Prince’s fingers keep lingering a second or two more than necessary after placing a piece of cheese against the seam of his mouth, soft fingertips tracing his lips and sliding down to his chin before disappearing altogether. It makes his heart sing and it makes his mind scream, claim to be released of this torture that can only end badly for both of them. 

“Junmyeon” Yixing whispers, the light shining from the sconces on the wall casting deep shadows on his face, he licks his lips and leans forward a bit more, shifting on his seat, resting his weight on one leg and perching the other on the settee, closing their distance until their breathes intermingle. 

Junmyeon smiles and places his hands on Yixing’s shoulders, desperately anchoring himself to the wonderful man with bright eyes and deep dimple. Anchors and seamen don’t get along well, like a bird used to soar the skies and a golden cage, yet Junmyeon ties himself down to the spell in Yixing’s sweet velvet voice. 

“Junmyeon” Yixing repeats, cradling his face with his hands. Junmyeon hums, as if telling him to go on “Junmyeon, can I… can I kiss you?”

He should have said no, but he should have been king and yet he stepped away, he should have been the realms delight and became their shameful runaway, so saying yes, nodding so softly that if Yixing hadn’t been paying such close attention he would have missed it, feels like doing what he has done best his entire life: doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. 

"Stay the night" Yixing begs when they part, when Junmyeon is fighting for air to fill hins lungs instead of this chest tightening feeling, instead of this greed for more "Please, please, please" he begs, begs on his knees! holding Junmyeon's thighs with harsh hands, but how can Junmyeon care for the little pain on his flesh when his heart aches to stay and never leave?

And so, he stays. He stays one, two, three nights. He stays until his mind's complaints are overridden by his heart's happiness, by the sheer joy of a few peaceful hours of sleep next to a man who clings to him even in deep slumber, sneaking out before sunrise, well aware that, after a week of such trips back and forth, that the entire court must know of the Crown Prince's affair to the Prince of Namsu who refused his birthright.

Is this how it feels to be an open secret? Is this how _he_ felt as he died?

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For the better part of two months, Yixing had been pursuing his little prince from Namsu, inviting him to the palace, following him to his store and purchasing little trinkets and expensive books that he won’t read unless Junmyeon personally recommended them. He had tried it all, running out of options and running out of hope. But then, miracles in the spring had occurred and Junmyeon had said yes when Yixing simply said what he felt since they met. 

For the better part of other two months, Yixing has been rejoicing in the sheer beauty of bedding the man he adores, of experiencing romance and passion and lust and love, yes! love! What other name can be given to the feeling that keeps choking him up whenever he sees Junmyeon walk into the castle and be scurried away by a swarm of officials at the service of the king? What other name could have the beautiful thoughts that manage to distract him from listening to court sessions properly? Love and devotion and a need to please and protect, to care for and be cared for as well. 

Junmyeon is magic, he is the magic of old that legends keep repeating. He is bold and bright, built sturdily and all his to love and mark. Of course, Junmyeon does some marking of his own, and more often than not Yixing blushes under the attention of those deep brown eyes, under the sweet words he whispers in between silk sheets. 

Yixing is elated, drifting between clouds. Nothing can take his happiness away in this exact moment, as happiness has a name and velvety skin, burrowing his thick brown blanket. Shying away from lights and intrusive eyes, covered in the golden glow of the sunrise, Yixing smiles at the sight of the space beside him still occupied, warm skin just a breath away from him. 

Slowly, the prince scurries towards his lover, wrapping an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his nape and resting his head on the man’s shoulder. Junmyeon sighs, humming as he wakes, but doesn’t move away. Instead he takes Yixing’s arm and forces him to cuddle closer, threading his fingers with Yixing’s and pressing a fleeting kiss to his knuckles.

Yixing’s heart sings with blossoming happiness, closing his eyes and doing nothing more than listening to the sound of their breathing synchronizing in the early morning glow. He is aware that the world awaits behind his door, that there is a mountain of duties and responsibilities calling his name, but for now the world can wait. That world can wait, his little world is sleeping underneath him and that is all that matters. 

The Prince of Namsu has done nothing but bring joy to Yixing’s heart. So it can be excused that he feels sorrow when his valets wakes him, an hour later, and his bed has grown cold, scowling at the little man and receiving a sour smile in return. 

“Your Highness, good morning!” Baekhyun says, polite mask covering his natural expression “His Majesty has called for Your Highness, a private audience is to be had.”

Yixing follows his valet to the chambers of the King, entering after being announced by the King’s valet. As he walks in, the scene he encounters is of his young sister, gripping the edge of the long table in the centre of the room, eyeing her father with chagrin.

Yiren barely even looks at Yixing before exiting the room like a storm, slamming the oak door with all her might as she goes. The King sighs deeply and focus his attention on his son standing awkward beside the slammed doors.

“Beloved Crown Prince Yixing, please take a seat” he starts, putting back in motion the prince, who approaches him with a reverent expression and a deep bow before sitting in the empty seat besides the monarch “Our emissaries have returned from their diplomatic envoys to the neighbouring kingdoms, with mixed reports”

“What are those reports?” Yixing asks, cautiously, well aware that his father must have something important to say besides speaking about reports of the realm’s foreign affairs. 

“Well, Queen Bada of Namsu hasn’t agreed to our demands and calls for a meeting in the frontier, to resolve the matter of the engagement annulment and the new situation of her realm and its relationships with ours” the King taps his fingers rhythmically on the edge of the mahogany table “It has been brought to my attention that you have become er… rather familiar with the former Crown Prince of Namsu” Yixing, with his face suddenly heating, manages to nod “It would be good if you spoke with him about this issue and managed to convince his mother to be more reasonable with us.” 

“He has stepped away from all duties to his realm, Venerable Father,” Yixing says, bowing his head softly “he only keeps correspondence with his sister and they never speak of matters concerning to the Crown of Namsu”

“Ah, that’s a pity” the King shrugs and continues, skimming through the pages of the report in his hands before dropping it altogether and picking the next one from the pile “Another novelty is that the Kingdom of Suyang has agreed to our proposition”

“What proposition, Venerable Father?” 

“That of marrying their newly crowned King to our Beloved Princess Yiren, thus securing the alliance between our realms”

“Oh, I see” that explains Yiren’s behaviour, isn’t she too young to be wed to a King? Seventeen summers aren’t enough for such position, in Yixing’s humble opinion “When will the wedding take place?” 

“The summer of the next year, first we will celebrate another wedding” when Yixing says nothing, the King sighs, putting down the documents and crossing his hands over the table “The Kingdom of Hyewon proposed the engagement of Princess Yoorim, daughter of Queen Sooyoung, and our Beloved Crown Prince. And I agreed to it. The wedding is to be celebrated before the end of the year.” 

“I see...” Yixing replies, mind stopping to a halt like a carriage with a broken wheel. 

An engagement. Now that he is so happy, now that he is so joyful, now that he has his love safely in between his arms, now an engagement comes. He was well aware that sooner or later he would be forced to marry, but not now! He doesn’t deserve this now! Not when things finally feel safe and sound, not when Junmyeon loves him. 

If it was left to his will, Yixing would have waited for his father to die, for his sister to be wed and pregnant, for his council to beg him to be wed before picking a suitable bride. And even then he would have stretched it out as much as possible, pushing the thought away in favour of loving his dear prince of Namsu. 

But the gods are never kind, are they? They give and they take and they break hearts in the process. Yixing has been good, hasn’t he? He didn’t deserve a punishment, they didn’t deserve a punishment for loving one another. 

“Apologies, Your Majesty, I must retire” the prince hastens to lie, pushing his chair away from the table “I’ve got other duties to attend to”

“Of course, Dear Son, you may leave”

The Crown Prince offers a stiff reverence as he stands, darting away from the monarch like a disease would catch him if he stayed in the room any longer. He is out of breathe by the time he reaches his rooms, allowing himself to rest against the wall and slowly sinking. Yixing collapses on the floor, knees pressed against his chest, running circles inside his mind because what will Junmyeon say to such news?

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“Princess Yoorim?” Junmyeon asks, voice breaking on the edges. The seams of his heart come undone word after word. Engagement, wedding, end of the year. 

In Namsa, back when Junmyeon was an adolescent dreaming of pretty people and slowly falling for his very own valet, Princess Yoorim was a pupil of his mother. Hyowon's little princess was ten years old and always smiling. She left the realm as a blossoming sixteen years old lady, beautiful bright eyes and exquisite long black hair, more often than not braided with blue and silver bows. The Queen of Namsa wanted Junmyeon to marry Yoorim, willing to wait until she reached a proper age to be wed just because she was so delightful and charming. 

Junmyeon didn’t like her, not because he didn’t think she was a beautiful young maiden, Jiwoo certainly believed she was a sparkling jewel, but rather because he couldn’t care about another pretty face when he was already surrounded by so many people full of charm and wit. 

Seeing Yoorim return to his life didn’t seem unexpected to eighteen years old Junmyeon, heir to the throne even if hesitant to take his mother’s stead. To nearly thirty years old Junmyeon she appears as a dark horse, taking the man he holds dear and most likely all against her will. Crowned heads don’t tend to ask their children for opinions in affairs of the state.

It’s a warm spring day, the terrace of his antiquities store is illuminated with the dying light of the day, and yet Junmyeon feels cold like a naked man in the midst of the coldest night. It’s cold to know where the heart is and not being able to warm it up with hope. Because hope dies with Yixing’s words. 

“I know my duty lies with her, with my father’s crown and the children that I must father for this dynasty to continue on, but I know where my love is and it’s here” he says, groping almost blindly for Junmyeon’s hand, threading their fingers together “With you, Myeonnie. You are my love. I won’t leave you”

“You won’t marry then?”

Yixing drops his head “I must marry her, Myeon, but nothing can take me away from you. I won’t leave you”

Junmyeon sighs, crossroads are never pretty. 

And that’s the thing with Yixing, beautiful fool dressed in golden robes, he doesn’t know a thing about crossroads. Duty and love are killers and they target each other with arrows of fire. Junmyeon knows it, his former love knew it, and yet neither of them learnt it before it was too late. 

For his love, death came. For Junmyeon, duty did. 

“I relinquished my duty for love” Junmyeon says, voice low like a whisper. Yixing stops to stare at him, eyes shiny and mouth slightly open. “I would never ask for you to leave yours, for I know your heart and your devotion for your father, so just say goodbye and leave before either of us does something that we will grow to regret.” 

“No!” Yixing screams, moving so he is kneeling between Junmyeon’s legs, clinging to his short jacket and pleading with wide open eyes “Please don’t leave me, please don’t ask me to leave you”

“I am not asking, I am demanding” Junmyeon states, easily slipping behind the mask of a stern monarch that he was raised to wear “Xing I…” he squeezes Yixing’s hand with fondness, desperate to let him now that this is breaking his heart as well “I love you, but your choice is made isn’t it? I have no space in the aftermath of your… engagement” Junmyeon sighs deeply, letting go of his lover “You can’t choose both love and duty, Yixing, you simply can’t.”

Eventually, Yixing leaves, swallowed tears and harsh words thrown like arrows to try and make the whole ordeal feel more like a proper fight of lovers in dusty crossroads and not what it truly is: resignation and surrender on both of fronts. 

Junmyeon quietly walks down the stairs, past his living quarters and right into the antiquities store. He helps Jongin with the last few clients of the afternoon before closing down and walking upstairs to make dinner. Jongin tries his best to make casual conversation, throwing arrows in the dark that Junmyeon doesn’t even bother to try and catch. Eventually he grows quiet, Junmyeon grows pensive. 

As he heads to his room, Junmyeon calls for Jongin to do one thing. 

“Write to my mother, tell her I’m coming home.”

The lopsided smile his friend wears is heartbreaking, but what can another cut do to his already torn heart? 

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The palace of Namsu’s Royal Family, located in the busting capital of the realm, sparkling Mungcheok, is a behemoth built with white stone and blue tiling, grey cobblestone tracing paths in between the green gardens. Junmyeon sighed when the sight appeared before him, white palace staring down at the city like a bird of prey. It’s a silent judge whose verdict is that it was about time for the rogue prince to come back home. 

The runaway son of the Queen returns not to the sound of fanfares but to a quiet welcome. No one knows he is here and he makes sure it stays that way, sitting in the back of a relatively small carriage with a hood covering his face, looking down like a criminal headed for a trial. And while he knows the Queen is not a merciful creature, his mother is understanding and caring. She can forgive misbehaviours if they come with a sincere apology afterwards. She can forgive a son for falling twice in the same pit.

Junmyeon is taken to the Queen’s sitting room by one of the many valets that serve Her Majesty. He takes a deep breath and nods. The doors open. 

The sitting room of Queen Bada is a well lit space, skylights showering the richly dressed figures in golden glow, tapestry and carpets embroidered with golden and red threads representing the many symbols of Namsu’s royal dynasty. Queen Bada herself is sitting in a wingback chair, embroiderment hoop in hand, under a large tapestry depicting a dragon with a crown around its neck, trimmings of gold making the impressive fire shine brightly. Her ladies in waiting surround her, a small entourage of women well loved by the Queen who Junmyeon recognize as being second mothers of him throughout his youth.

Queen Bada takes one look at her son, sees through him as if he were made of glass, and dismisses both the servants and her ladies in waiting before rushing to stand up and embrace her nestling. 

“My child” she whispers, kissing his hair reverently “What has Shiyuan done to you?”

Junmyeon says nothing. He can’t say anything, not in this miserable state. He just melts, lets himself be swallowed by the tears he has been holding, shallow breaths and broken words. He allows himself to be weak and vulnerable to the woman who has always been comprehensive and sweet with his tender heart. 

“Has my brother finally returned to his little nest?” Jiwoo asks, barging into the room like the storm that she is. He sardonic smile falls in the face of his tears, stooping to a halt and then running towards him, embracing him from behind and asking who made her big strong brother cry.

And in between Jiwoo’s un-royal-like cursing and the Queen’s steadfast attention, Junmyeon manages to tell the tale of living peacefully and quietly in Kentori, having Jongin by his side to make life easier and happier, only to fall for a man who refuses to choose between love and duty. 

“Stay until my birthday, Myeonnie” Jiwoo says, gentle fingers carding through his hair, words like a balm for Junmyeon’s tired mind 

“I agree, you should stay, my son” the Queen agrees, patting his shoulder. 

“Come on, Myeonnie! It will be fun” Jiwoo assures, quickly jumping to the opportunity of harass him into staying “We will eat caramel apples and dance until late hours of the night, I will show you a new routine I’ve learned and we’ll get the minstrel and the jester to play your favourite songs and entertain you through those boring diplomatic meetings!” her smile is bright and joyful as she says: “Taehyung surely will be happy to finally meet his soon-to-be brother in law”

“We can find some _distraction_ for you, if you wish so” his mother offers, raising her hands in self-defense as both her children eye her in disbelief “I just say that several people in this palace have always been fond of your royal person” Jiwoo’s roaring laugh makes Junmyeon roll his eyes, but deep down he is glad she lightens the mood.

Junmyeon sighs deeply, extracting himself from his sister’s lap -feeling like a glorified spaniel dog- and standing up clothes “I will stay, but now I want to sleep, if I’m allowed to do so”

“Of course, my boy” Queen Bada says, standing up as well and hugging him before calling for a maid “Please escort my son to his rooms” she commands, the servant bows deeply and holds the door open for him as if she was the knight in shining armor and the prince was the blushing maid of the tales.

Junmyeon smiles a little as he exits the room and walks to his former living space, comforted by the fact that his mother and sister are willing to nurse his stupid little hard back to health. His fool little heart that makes him dream of a dimpled smile under his red satin sheets. 

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It’s a sunny day, the grass glows under the sunlight, the ducks in the pond pleasantly move from one side to the other, flapping their wings from time to time, and there is a rumour going around that the Crown Prince’s valet sleeps on his bed to keep him from crying all night long.

As every story told in whispers, it’s partially true. Baekhyun stays with Yixing until late, runs his fingers through the Prince’s hair, sings old lullabies and tells anecdotes of his family, of his brother’s children, of his mother and her dogs. He keeps him distracted with games and rhymes and palace rumours. Of course, nothing can break the spell around the Crown Prince’s mind, that spell that keeps his thoughts flying towards Namsu and the prince that left him. 

‘Will he come back?’ is the question that keeps him up at night, that keeps his heart bawling and hollering, that keeps him looking through the windows of his carriage when he visits the capital, that keeps him pacing around his rooms with a red and gold handkerchief between his hands, tracing with his fingertips the beautiful J embroidered in gold in each corner. And as time goes by, he feels less and less reassured that his Prince of Namsu will return to his heart.

The night before Hyewon’s envoy arrives, Yixing sleeps with one eye open. 

“Your Highness, you need to rest properly” Baekhyun says, fluffing the pillows with dexterous fingers after dragging him from the sitting room’s settee of perpetual remembrance to the bed of agonic memories “Go on, Your Grace, undress while I make your bed, be a good boy” Yixing sighs but does as he is told. Baekhyun has known him for long to be allowed to act like this in private, but he recognizes that even if this was a low man telling him to do something he would still. He is so bruised and battered that something as silly as ranks and noble blood matters not to his poor heart.

Happiness if a butterfly, gently fluttering its wings away from his fingertips. It always seems to be at arms reach, yet it is impossible to reach it. The sun burns the sky is bleeding in gold, Yixing sinks his nose into the a hundred times washed pillowcase next to him and pretends he can smell his fruity perfume, citrus and sunshine and a warm smile with soft velvet lips that swims away from his sight when it’s time to wake and wear a perfectly polite mask that no one who knows him would believe it’s real.

Hyewon’s cerulean and silver flood the palace, welcoming the guests with their coat of arms (a silver harp with white strings over an azure background) in pennants that hang neatly next to Shiyuan’s golden dragon embroidered in a purple field.

Yixing feels somber walking through the gardens with a beautiful lady hanging from his arm that doesn’t call his attention. Princess Yoorim of Hyewon looks perpetually pensive, staring ahead with her chin up and her eyes focused on something far in the distance. And for as different as they look, rounded face with smaller eyes and a perkier nose for the princess, Yixing can’t help but compare her pout to the pouty lips he visits in his daydreams. 

“Has Your Highness been well treated thus far?” he asks, trying to make some conversation. 

“I have, Your Highness, thank you for your concern” she replies, full of courtesy and grace. She looks bored and Yixing is bored too, but he can’t do anything about that. 

This is his fiancee, he is supposed to walk her around the palace, show her important landmarks and become familiar with the shape of her hands, as if he wanted to hold hands that aren’t his favourite ones, as if he would want to hold close someone who is not his prince of Namsu. 

Yixing yawns, losing sleep over lovers who have left you is not a fun sport. 

“Forgive me, Your Highness” Yoorim says, her side glance piercing through him “I take it I am not an entertaining companion” she smiles when he blushes, squeezing his arm fondly. 

“Apologies, Your Highness” 

“I suppose if we are to be married we should address each other with our given names rather than with our titles or styles” the princess offers and Yixing nods, staring at the tip of his boots as he walks “Prince Yixing, would you should me those statues over there?” she asks, elegant fingers pointing to the far left.

“Of course, it would be my pleasure” Yixing answers, mouth automatically sputtering diplomatic responses.

“I wish we could go alone” Yoorim interjects as they approach the landmark.

Behind them, the entourage of guards, ladies in waiting, courtiers and dandies, as well as valets and maids that follow them -a few steps away- stoops to a halt when the pair of princes do, murmuring rising like foam in the sea. 

“Stay here until we say otherwise” he commands and the group bows politely, staying in their places as the pair move away again. 

The semi-circle of statues, known as the Atrium of Crowns, welcomes them with a breeze rising from the fields and unto the sky, making the leaves brush against each other in an utmost pleasing sound. Yoorim lets go of his arm to walk towards the small pedestals in which every statue is seated. They represent prior consorts of the throne, including Yixing’s deceased mother as well, in the furthest corner with a magpie sitting on her extended right arm. For a brief moment he gets lost in the thought of what a statue of Junmyeon would look like under the shade of the sycamore trees. 

“I met the princes of Namsu when I was young” she says after a long moment of silence. Yixing hums in question and she shakes her head softly “I used to be a pupil of the Queen of Namsu. She was really nice and I learnt a lot from her but I mostly spent time with her children, Princess Jiwoo and who then was Crown Prince Junmyeon. I liked them, very much. Their Highnesses were always kind and sweet, Princess Jiwoo spent a lot of time with me” 

She twirls around a statue, observing the shapes of a prince who must represent Yixing’s great grandfather, and stops in front of it with a pensive expression (or perhaps that’s just how she naturally looks). 

“I was meant to be engaged with Prince Junmyeon but the negotiations fell when he left his position as heir to the throne” Yoorim sighs, fidgeting with the edging of her corset’s gusset “It made me sad to hear that, until I realized that he was happier that way, away from crowns and honors” she turns to Yixing with a sad smile “Away from duties and pressures”

Yixing avoids her gaze, staring at the stone jacket of his ancestor, following with his eyes the shape of the tassels that fall from his shoulders. Yoorim knows about Junmyeon’s place in Yixing’s life. Everyone in the palace knew so it wouldn’t be a surprise that those rumours reached her. He sighs deeply, frowning and crossing his hands behind his back. 

“I’m sorry” she starts, turning to him with furrowed brows “I don’t mean to pry into your life and I am sure you wouldn’t want to discuss such a topic with a stranger but we are to be wed so I intend on letting you know that I know your heart has no place for my name on it” she raises her hand when Yixing is about to intervene, effectively shutting him up “and I’m more than understanding of it” 

The princess takes his arm, walking towards the other statues. Yixing follows, attentive to her words.

“I have no interest in men, your rejection can’t faze me” Yoorim assures, shrugging “My mother and I are well aware that the alliance of Hyewon and Shiyuan is vital for the future of both our realms, so I wouldn’t sabotage it in any way” they stop in front of the statue of Yixing’s mother, magpie about to spread its wings and fly into the red sun “I think I can help you be with your love without too much hassle” 

“How?” Yixing asks, trying to sound calm but feeling a storm rage inside his stomach and an earthquake shattering his heart. 

Yixing lets go of her arm, turning until they stand face to face, one hand gripping her right arm and pulling her close so their voices can be as low as possible. They are exposed to the eyes of the world, entourage distant enough to not hear their words but close enough that they can see them clearly, but Yixing is uncaring if anyone sees them like this. After all they will be wed, what difference does it makes if they act fond of each other before the wedding? He can use the pantomime, he can wear the mask, if that allows him to keep his lover close once more.

“Trust in your clever fiancee, Your Highness,” she caresses the left side of his face with a gloved hand, winking as she smiles “when time is due, you will know. Now, let’s drink some tea and pretend affection some more.”

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It’s been weeks since he’s been able to walk on his own outside the walls of the palace, months since he’s been alone in a room without someone asking if he needs anything, addressed as ‘my liege’ wherever he goes. It feels a bit like a throwback, like being nineteen again and wearing the black and red uniform of the 1st Regiment of Dragoons of Mungcheok, like being twenty and feeling the sunrise after a long night of state banquets and secret escapes to meet lower-rank friends in the stables. It feels as if he could stretch his hand and his lover would be there, not Yixing and his pretty dimple but him, his teenage romance that bloomed and died before the age of thirty. 

“Myeonnie, you are staggering!” Jiwoo drags him by the arm when he stays back, a few steps away from the rest of the dancers in the centre of the room “Come on, I gave the first dance to Taehyunnie but you are my brother, you get the second” she places both of them in the middle of the ballroom, curious eyes following them. 

The sound of the violins keeps him afloat, movement by movement, pulling and pushing as the music dictated. Jiwoo’s laughter reminds him just how warm he felt growing up in these cold, cold rooms, surrounded by prying eyes and attentive servants, valets and maids following their masters everywhere they go. It was warm to be loved by this sister, cared by this mother. 

Their father died when they both were very young and their mother had a realm to take care of, so it was natural that the pair grew closer and closer as years went by. And Jiwoo had believed Junmyeon to be a hero, one of the knights in the stories the nanny told her before sending her to bed. And Junmyeon adored his little Wiwoo with his whole heart, protecting her as much as he could and teaching her to protect herself. 

It had been good to grow together, it had been good to have a sister in who he could confide wholeheartedly. Because if something happened to him, Jiwoo knew it and more often than not she offered help and even fists if the situation escalated. Junmyeon wouldn’t have allowed her to get into physical fights, but he was well aware that she could and would provoke more than a few blisters with her hands. 

So, of course, when Junmyeon fell in love, she was the first one to hear his sighing and wailing, his longing hours watching his clever valet train in the yard with other low-ranking boys of the court. Jiwoo was the one who wrote in the edge of a book, back in the library where their lessons were held, _‘Junmyeon who loves Jongdae’_ and Junmyeon, flustered to the marrow, had ripped the page and threw it to the fire. Up until this day, “History of Three Realms” has a missing page, he made sure to check early in the morning, before sauntering away to visit the graveyard. 

“I visited his grave this morning” he says when the music quiets down as they close the balcony door. Jiwoo’s quipped eyebrows slide down to a sympathetic sad expression, left hand reaching for Junmyeon’s shoulder, wine glass left unattended in the balustrade “Thank you for keeping it well cared”

“It’s the least mother and I could do for you, Jun” Jiwoo leans close, replacing her hand with her head, chin perched on her brother’s shoulder “You told me he liked sunflowers, I always make sure there are enough in his vase” Junmyeon hums, watching the wine in his glass move as he swirls his hand “What are you thinking, brother?”

“Is it worth it? I mean, dying for love?” he sighs, crossing his hands over the edge of the balcony, quiet gardens illuminated with torches “Should I have done more back then? Sacrifice it all and marry him so at least he would’ve died a prince?”

“You couldn’t have married him, Myeonnie” of course, he couldn’t, the law demands consorts of noble blood. But….

“Still. I could’ve done something.”

“An incurable illness took him, didn’t it? Myeonnie, your sweet Dae was doomed whether you had done something or not” she shrugs, stepping away with brows furrowed “Death was waiting for him nonetheless, what good does it do to torture yourself like this?” Jiwoo stares at her brother with wide, commanding eyes, a true queen wearing her name “A great man once taught me that if a love is worth it then it will wait, then it will tolerate it all, endure it all” 

Junmyeon stares at the clear skies above him and the skies stare back at him, jet black infinite ceiling flickering with galaxies upon galaxies of light. In Shiyuan one can see a few different constellations, but it remains the same sky. _What is Yixing doing right now?_ he asks to the heavens, but no answer comes. 

The year will end soon enough, Yixing's bride must already be in the palace, already wearing clothes fitted for the Shiyuan weather, rehearsing the steps she must walk to take her place beside the throne in the dais. For what he has heard, she will be a stunning bride. Jiwoo claims Yoorim has grown twice as beautiful as she was when she left Namsu. It will hurt to see her kiss his love. It will hurt to see her bear children with his smile. 

Junmyeon sighs, what good would it do to him to stay in Namsu? He’d be weighing down his sister, a looming presence that people would point fingers at, calling him an inconvenience, _didn’t he leave the throne, what is he doing in our future queen’s halls?_ It will hurt to be called names, to be seen as nothing but have not the freedom of being no one. 

In Shiyuan he has an antiquities store, a blossoming business that gains more and more attention as days pass. In Shiyuan he has the freedom to walk down the streets and buy and stare at his heart’s content. In Shiyuan he will be forced to watch his lover in the hands of someone else, he’ll be forced to witness a pantomime of a marriage and see Yixing’s eyes grow cold as years pass. 

Being a second choice doesn’t really mean anything when one is forced to take the first one. Yixing made it very clear that he never wanted to marry this woman, that he is only doing it out of duty, that he still loves Junmyeon. What had he said that afternoon in the terrace? “ _Nothing can take me away from you. I won’t leave you_ ”

“I should go back to Shiyuan” Junmyeon says, drinking his last few drops of wine with a flourish “I left my store unattended”

“You will go next week”, Jiwoo sentences, taking his hand and walking once more into the grand ballroom “tonight it’s still my birthday and I want to dance, Myeonnie” she twirls him under her arm, forcing him to bend down in a fit of laughter “Go on! Call Jonginnie, my beloved fiance gets so jealous when he sees me talking with him!” 

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Three months after the departure of one small ship from the harbor of Kentori, headed to the rocky shores of Namsu, the news of the re-opening of the pretty Antiquities store, six streets away from the Stone Chapel, hit the palace. Yixing was drinking his afternoon tea when he heard, his fiancee on the other side of the small table of his sitting room, reading a book with three maids behind her. 

When he looked at her, forcing his heart to quiet down after Baekhyun’s expertly delivered information sank inside his chest, the small lady smiled without even lifting her eyes from the page. Instead, Yoorim asked for one of her maids to go to that store, she wanted to buy a few trinkets for her family in Hyewon. 

“Nothing too big, but if you see anything with a lotus flower bring it to me. My mother adores lotuses” And that was it. Needless to say, Yixing had certain suspicions for her behaviour, but didn’t dare to ask with so many ears around them. 

Yixing didn’t dare to visit the store, didn’t attempt to ride his carriage around the area, not even at night to see if the lights of the floors above the store were lit. He just waited and waited, begged for his love to send a message, a sign. There was some hope still, tightly nested inside his heart, dying, yes but still alive for now.

And the message came, one dark evening, forty five days before his wedding. It was a note, a simple message written in bold letters asking to meet him in the Stone Chapel, away from prying eyes at midnight. 

As he walked down darkened corridors, taking his horse as quietly as he could from the stable, he realized that they never wrote to each other, this was his first time seeing the handwriting of Junmyeon, Prince of Namsu. How beautiful, how mystic, how strange. 

“Junmyeon?” he called, seeing the familiar silhouette at the end of the aisle, standing by the barely lit statues of one of the many gods of Shiyuan. When he turned, Yixing’s heart skipped a beat. There he was, beautiful as a daydream, features kissed by the golden light of the candles. 

“Yixing…” came as an answer and when they hugged, Yixing let out the air he didn’t know he was holding back, letting himself deflate and melt, beloved warmth embracing him, beautiful heartbeat in his ears. Junmyeon sighs, relaxing his muscles and Yixing feels like he fits just a little bit better now, like he is a little bit closer. 

“I was so happy when I saw your message” Yixing says when they part, cradling his lover’s face between his hands, adoring the way the flames dance in his eyes.

“My message? I didn’t send you a message...”

“I did” a female voice comes, followed by the face of Princess Yoorim, materializing from the darkness with a hood covering her “Many apologies for the grim setting, Your Royal Highnesses, I like theatrical exposes" she giggles softly, calling for them to approach her and sit in the ebony benches that face the gods in the atrium.

"Why did you convocate us here?" Junmyeon asks, visibly upset. 

"I found an answer to your predicament while saving my life and the alliances between our three nations" she takes a small rolled parchment from her sleeve, giggling as she says "Perhaps I am too fond of theatre" Yoorim tends her parchment to the prince of Namsu, who approaches the light to read better. In the darkness, the furrow of his brows becomes very intimidating.

“This is just a piece of legal writing” he says, showing the paper to Yixing who grabs it and devours its content only to be left with a lot of interrogations. When he raises his eyes from the paper, the princess of Hyewon is staring at him with a knowing look. 

“A very important piece of legal writing. It states that a direct heir to the throne of Shiyuan can wed two consorts at once if an alliance were to be tainted by wedding just one of the consorts” Yoorim smiles, like a cat with the cream “The only important part is that one of the consorts is unable to provide heirs, meaning that a same sex marriage is advised and encouraged to withhold alliances without providing quarrels between said heir's children" 

“And why is that relevant?” Junmyeon asks. Yixing turns to him with a bewildered expression, holding his arm with a little bit more strength than necessary. How could he not understand? 

Before Yixing can explain it, the princess scoffs and does some explaining of her own. 

“Don’t you see, my dearest Junmyeon of Namsu? The negotiations about the estate of the Shiyuan-Namsu alliance are at a dispute since Jiwoo and Yixing’s engagement was called off. And before I was engaged to our beloved Prince Yixing I was set to marry you, do you remember that?”

Yoorim wears a mysterious smile, that paired with a mischievous look in her eyes tells Yixing that this not a blushing maiden but rather a political animal.

“One can say that those are scenarios of possible dispute. Imagine if my mother or yours decided to complain that one or the other is in the wrong for my wedding to Prince Yixing who was formerly engaged to Princess Jiwoo of Namsu?" she takes a hand to her chest, dramatic gesture accentuated by the shocked expression she wears "It would mean war! A true tragedy!”

Yixing is equal parts amazed at how learned his fiancee is and elated to know there is an answer, a solution to his heartbreak. But the image his lover offers is vastly different to the one Yixing is sure he is wearing. Junmyeon seems contrited, brows furrowed and pursed lips, jaw clenched, clearly pensive and quiet but somehow angry. 

“Why are you doing this?” Junmyeon asks, voice broken.

She shrugs, crossing her legs elegantly “I don’t like unhappy endings between lovers, but most importantly I don’t like the idea of bringing dishonor to my family by allowing my spouse to hold a mistress… male or female” upon meeting quizzical expressions, she sighs and continues to say: “In Hyewon a husband having a mistress implies that his wife is not held as valuable to him, bringing shame to himself and to his bride. I won’t be shamed in my nation, I won’t let you do that my name. So it is this or I let my mother have her way”

“Which is…?”

“A tragic hunting incident in which the former Crown Prince of Namsu falls off.”

“How dare you!” Yixing screams, his voice echoing in the empty temple, the shadows dancing against the flames of the pillar candles as he presses Junmyeon closer against his body. How dare she insinuate that Junmyeon be killed! How dare she! 

“I don’t want that scenario, dearest fiance, which is why I am offering this piece of legal advice and letting you know the secret ploys of my mother” Yoorim stands with a nonconcomitant expression as she says: “Ultimately I don’t care, I won’t be ashamed either way” she turns around and begins to walk down the aisle.

“Tell you will do it” Yixing says when she is no longer in sight, the cathedral whispering in the night “Tell me you will stand by me now that we have a way”

“Xing, I…” Junmyeon quiets down, eyes downcast and lips barely parted, as if he is trying to make sense of his thoughts before speaking “I would become your consort and there is nothing that I would love more than calling you mine in front of the eyes of the world” 

“But?” Yixing asks, clenching his hands around Junmyeon’s biceps, so close that they could kiss if he so desired. 

“I left Namsu because I didn’t want to be in the eyes of the world any further. I wanted to be free” Junmyeon sighs and sits down in the ebony bench, dragging Yixing with him because of course, Yixing follows him like a puppy in need of affection, in need of knowing what his master has to say “Deep down I know, that once you are born to that life it never leaves you. You carry your name and your crown even if you think you left it behind”

There is silence and the sound of horse hooves in the distance, a city that sleeps in peace as if Yixing’s heart wasn’t pending from a gold thread. He takes Junmyeon’s hand between his, loving how well they fit together, feeling his heart speed up whenever their eyes meet. It’s silly to be this in love and to be this foolish for love certainly doesn’t fit the profile of a future king. 

But how can Yixing think about the crown and its demands when he is once more a breathe away from his lover? What thing can Yixing be thinking about other than the delight of plush lips against his when Junmyeon leans and they meet halfway between their bodies? He sighs into the kiss, it's the first time in over three months that they kiss and it feels just a sweet as it did that first time in his quiet sitting room. 

“Love requires a sacrifice, doesn’t it?” Junmyeon says as they part, just a little bit, just enough to see each other with flushed cheeks and glossy lips. Yixing smiles as Junmyeon caresses his cheek, thumb brushing over his parted lips “Long time ago I loved another and his sacrifice was knowing that we would never be more than a secret” when Yixing’s brows furrow, Junmyeon laughs softly “He’s died, my love, worry not. There is no one in Namsu waiting for me besides my family” the prince of Namsu sighs, lowers his eyes and exhales once more, seemingly emptying his lungs and filling them once more before he says, setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders, “If I have to lose my free agency in exchange for spending a lifetime with you then so be it”

“I guess a crown is a better fate than death” Yixing smiles, leaning close to peck Junmyeon’s beautifully blushed cheeks

“I guess it is” Junmyeon laughs and presses Yixing close to him.

This, Yixing thinks, is just the beginning of a happy, happy life. 

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Do Kyungsoo is a very meticulous tailor who takes pride in his art and craft being perfect. Which is why he is in the palace hours before the ceremony begins, stitching and mending any and every mistake his eyes can find. Kyungsoo removes his specs and helps the Crown Prince’s valet fix the ribbons of Junmyeon’s long red and gold jacket.

“Your Highness, could you please turn to the left?” he asks and Junmyeon complies, turning to face the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the inner gardens of the palace. 

There is a brightly colored butterfly in between the white rose bushes. He smiles as he sees it, tiny and fragile but so free. How long do butterflies live? It must not be a lot. Still, a short life of freedom is better that a long one of silence and imprisonment. 

“There, all set” the tailor says, pocketing his specs and standing back, smiling proudly. 

“Congratulations on your engagement” Junmyeon says after the tailor has left a kiss on Baekhyun’s cheek and sauntered away to join the wedding’s attendees. The valet smiles, pink dusting across his cheeks, helping Junmyeon with his white gloves.

“This valet is most happy to receive your congratulations, Your Highness”

“I hope you invite this humble bride to the ceremony” 

“Of course, Kyungsoo wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t invite his prince. Being born in Mungcheok made him a great ‘fan’ of Your Highness” he says, laughing as he pins the last medal to Junmyeon’s chest “Is Your Highness ready to leave?” Junmyeon nods and steps down the pallet he stood in. 

Junmyeon walks towards his destiny with a knot tightly tied around his throat, suffocating him just enough to leave him gasping but still breathing. It comes in waves, this feeling that he should be running away, that he shouldn’t be here. That something is deeply wrong with this type of wanting that forces him to do the unthinkable, that shapes his actions to fit narratives that don’t seem to belong ho him, or rather stories that don’t seem to have space for his soul. Wuthering heights and deep trenches, steep paths that call for sturdier built heros. 

The prince of Namsu is a creature of routine and habits, a small man with small wishes, who deep down wants nothing more than his antiquities store, living with his valet and friend Jongin, tending together to their shared garden in the terrace, quiet dinners and chatty mornings. Instead he gets state dinners, once more the spotlight cast over his head, and the duty of serving a crown, another throne demanding for him to do and say this or that thing. It feels second hand nature to comply to the will of a crowned creature, and yet he wants nothing more than to be free. 

The fear of falling apart lasts throughout the ceremony, this feeling that everything is a mistake, that this walk down the aisle shouldn’t be his but only of the beautiful maiden dressed in silver and blue, cobalt skirt and diamond necklace shimmering splendidly. Young and beautiful Yoorim attracts all eyes, leaving the very male, very strange second bride to claim a secondary role. It seems appropriate, for a third party who shouldn’t be here but is. 

He has heard the whispers, that this prince of Namsu becoming a consort is just the whim of the Crown Prince, a wedding accepted because the heir threw a fit and refused to settle down for a marriage without his lover. Some people even say that once he grows tired of acting like temperamental toddler, poor prince Junmyeon will be thrown away like a discarded toy. 

Junmyeon certainly hopes that never happens, wants to believe that Yixing wouldn’t do such a thing to him. After all that he has fought for this ceremony to take place, he doubts his beloved prince will throw him away. Still, Junmyeon fears for the worst as he kneels in front of the priest that will anoint the Crown Prince and his consorts as a married trio. 

Explicit as the law was in it allowing of this unconventional marriage, it was very vague regarding the arrangement of it. So the King demanded, insisted, on the princess of Hyewon and prince of Namsu to be wedded to the Crown Prince but never to each other and that the spouses of the heir to Shiyuan never share a bed together. Of course, Junmyeon and Yoorim agreed, private talk assuring each other that there was no hidden intentions, no desire. 

Yixing was elated, is elated, smiling broad and beautiful, so pretty...

And so the Grand Ballroom of Kentori’s Royal Palace was opened and the celebration began, music filling every corner. Junmyeon smiles, of course he does, happy to be with his beloved Yixing, but there is something deeply fake about it at certain points. His darling sister notices, of course she notices, and her sad smile makes him attempt to do better. _Pretend, Junmyeon, pretend,_ he tells himself, after all this is but the beginning of a long life under the all judging daylight.

Junmyeon pretends to enjoy the dancing with his new co-consort, Yoorim’s seemingly genuine smile telling him that she is a far better actress than what he will ever be. He truly enjoys the way Yixing seems unable to peel his eyes from him, enjoys being kissed in public, being showed off like a cherished price, like a closely guarded gem. For the Crown Prince never stops talking about him, never stops telling people how joyful he is to have him by his side. People always add ‘and the princess as well, of course’ and Yixing nods, holding Junmyeon a little bit more tightly. 

“I love you so much!” Yixing yells as they dance around the ballroom, smiling so brightly, so happily. 

Because this is the truth, sacrifices for love happen all the time and all loves require a sacrifice. Sometimes it is something small, like a hairpin that you can dispose of at any given moments. Sometimes it demands an all consuming pact with the devil. 

Some loves, however, are the pact with the devil. 

(This one is, of course it is, how one can be so blind not to see that Junmyeon and Yixing wanted so much and became so little? That there was true, genuine, selfless love in between their parted lips that became vanity and pride and stubbornness when Hyewon stuck its claws in the realm? Junmyeon closes his eyes, to the truth, to his thoughts, to the little voice -that sounds so much like his sister- telling him that this is not what she meant when she spoke to him back in Namsu.)

Junmyeon will pretend that this is a love worth dying for, that once was pretty remains pretty, that the flowers in the garden don't die when winter comes. This is evergreen, perpetually beautiful. Smoke and mirrors shall surround his mind until it believes this is the truth.

For Yixing, Junmyeon will pretend to be entirely content with this arrangement, with Yoorim's sly smiles, with the King's judgement, with his sister's unrest for his well being. 

For Yixing, Junmyeon will smile and wave and parade around wearing a coat of arms that isn’t his. 

For Yixing, he will follow to the rooms of the Crown Prince, close the door behind them and sit in one of the sitting room’s wingback chairs, drinking strong cognac as his husband and the wife he had to wed consummate their marriage in the bed that Junmyeon so closely knows. 

“I love you too” Junmyeon replies, following Yixing's steps like he would follow him to the ends of the earth. 

  
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**Author's Note:**

> "And that's the thing about illicit affairs  
> And clandestine meetings  
> And stolen stares  
> They show their truth one single time  
> But they lie and they lie and they lie  
> ...a million little times"


End file.
